


Self-Control

by fengirl88



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Mind Control, Obedience, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-13
Updated: 2011-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-22 14:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fengirl88/pseuds/fengirl88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles has a will of iron.  Erik's fine with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Self-Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ginbitch](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ginbitch).



> written for the "obedience" square for kinkbingo.
> 
> thanks to ginbitch and kate_lear for betaing this; additional thanks to ginbitch for luring me to see the film in the first place!

Charles is good at making people do things. He doesn't _have_ to use his powers every time. It's not even coercion, necessarily. He just fixes you with those deep blue eyes, that sad sincere _innocent_ look, and you fall right into the trap.

Erik knows this from observation. At least he thinks it's only that. He thinks he chose to stay for his own reasons, not because Charles told him he should. Made him feel how alone he'd been, something he'd never minded since childhood.

It's hardly surprising Charles expects to get his own way, Erik thinks. Growing up in a fucking mansion like this, it would be more surprising if Charles _hadn't_ developed the habit of command. How easily he steps into his role as instructor, training and refining the raw power the others don't yet know how to handle. The only one who's under no restraint is Charles himself. As Erik doesn't hesitate to point out to him, first chance he gets.

They're on the terrace steps, playing chess, and Charles has just avoided checkmate for the third time that afternoon.

“You're cheating, aren't you?” Erik says. “Reading my mind.”

Charles looks shocked. “I wouldn't! I would never – you know I wouldn't, not for this – ”

Erik knows that's true, but there's no room in his mind for fairness right now.

“There’s nothing to stop you, is there? You school the rest of us but nobody controls you.”

Impossible not to imagine how that power could be abused in other ways than cheating at chess. Even if Charles doesn't cheat.

“I control _myself_ ,” Charles says, and his eyes flash cold and deep like the shock of the ocean that night.

“When it suits you, sure,” Erik says. “What about under pressure?”

“I don't know,” Charles says coolly. “What sort of pressure do you mean?”

 _Not Shaw's kind_ , Erik thinks. The image of the room with the coin on the desk flares in his mind.

Charles doesn't react to the mention of Shaw's name – which suggests he's deliberately staying out of Erik's head.

Erik knows the only other person Charles chooses not to read is Raven. He doesn't think of himself and Charles as close, certainly not in the way Charles and Raven are. If Charles is holding back, though, it must mean something. Something more than the respect he knows there is between them.

He remembers that struggle in the water, Charles's arm around his throat, the feeling of Charles in his head. He's dreamt about that, often, since it happened. He thinks about what's behind that unreadable blue stare, and he wonders.

“I'll bet you I can find your limits,” he says. “Make you use your powers on me.”

Charles swallows. His eyes look wider, darker.

Fear, Erik thinks, though he's not sure exactly who or what Charles is afraid of at this moment. But there is another emotion, too. He hopes he's guessed right about what it is.

“A battle of wills, then?” Charles says.

“Yes,” Erik says. “A test of strength, but not physical strength.”

“How do you know I won't cheat if I lose, bend your mind to make you think I won?” Charles asks.

“I'll have to trust you, won't I?” Erik says ironically.

“Doesn't that rather defeat the object of the exercise?” Charles says.

There's a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Erik wants to wipe that smile off his face, lick it away, bite those red lips till Charles is breathless and shaking, till they both are.

“We'll see,” Erik says. “Come indoors, _Professor_ , we can't do this experiment with an audience.”

He gestures to where Hank and Banshee are playing catch on the lawn.

“My room, I think,” Erik says. “We're less likely to be disturbed.”

 

Charles is breathing unevenly in a way that has nothing to do with the long flight of stairs up to the bedroom, and there's a betraying flush across his cheekbones.

_You want to know what’s in my mind, don’t you, but you won't let yourself look. You think you've guessed, but you're not sure, and if you've guessed wrong..._

If Charles has guessed wrong, it's not as if Erik's about to turn him over to the police. Erik's taking a risk himself, if it comes to that; he's not the mindreader around here. But he does think he recognizes some of the signs. He wonders how many of them he's exhibiting himself.

He locks the bedroom door from the inside, turning the key without touching it. Showing off.

“Cheat!” Charles exclaims.

“I didn't say anything about not using _my_ powers,” Erik says.

Charles looks as if he's not sure whether to stand his ground or beat a retreat.

Erik grins. “Get on the bed,” he says.

Charles stares at him, not moving.

“Go on,” Erik says. “Or have you lost your stomach for the battle already?”

Charles sits on the bed, still staring at Erik. He leans down to take his shoes and socks off – _that's right, Charles, mustn't get the counterpane dirty, must we?_ – then swings his legs up. He sits back against the pillows and folds his arms, waiting.

“Unbutton your shirt,” Erik says.

Charles bites his lip. Doesn't say anything. He starts unbuttoning, fumbling, all his confidence seemingly gone.

 _Oh, you want this, don't you? Look at you all sweaty-palmed and shaky_.

“Drop it on the floor,” Erik says aloud.

Charles glares – that's not what he does with his clothes, of course it isn't – but he obeys.

“Now lie down,” Erik says. “Hands above your head.”

Charles does as he's told. He looks vulnerable, exposed.

_I want to mark you all over, do you know that?_

Erik's mind is a riot of kissing and biting, red blotches standing out against white flesh. His mouth waters and he swallows.

Charles raises an eyebrow.

“Spread your legs,” Erik says roughly. “Wider than that. Yes.”

He's learned not to show his feelings, but this clever soft pampered impossible man makes his pulse race. His heart's going so loud he wonders if Charles can hear it.

“Drop your left hand to your waist,” Erik says. “Now undo your trousers. Slowly. That's it.”

_See how my eyes follow the curve of your erection – yes, you like me watching you, don't you? What do you want first, my hands or my mouth? What do you think I'll let you have?_

He scans Charles's face for any sign that he's heard: nothing.

“Now take them off. No, just your left hand.”

Charles wriggles and tugs, pushing his trousers down clumsily over his erection. The pull of the fabric drags at his white cotton undershorts.

“Leave those on,” Erik says. “They don't come off till I tell you.”

Charles makes a soft little noise in the back of his throat. Erik wants to swallow that noise, make him make more, open his own mouth to devour all the sounds that come from Charles's.

“Both hands above your head again. Side by side, palms facing up. That's right.”

“Is there a point to this?” Charles asks.

He almost sounds calm, but underneath it there's a layer of tension, cigarette-paper thin. And under that –

Erik can't hear Charles's thoughts but he can see them. He focuses his gaze on each traitorous detail – _a vibration of desire under your skin. A single bead of sweat on your forehead. White cotton pulled tight where your cock pushes and strains at it._

“The point is that you do what I tell you. For now.”

He looks down at Charles, spread out on the bed. His own cock is achingly hard, and it's a struggle not to hurl himself on Charles and thrust against him till he comes. But he knows he can do better than that.

He moves to the bed and kneels over Charles, lowering his face till their mouths are almost touching. Charles's breath is warm, his lips slightly parted. Erik pulls back, enjoying the little _unh_ of frustration that Charles gives.

“Not yet,” he says, as Charles's hips jerk upwards.

_Your eyes are so dark now, pupils so wide. I could do whatever I liked to you and you wouldn't stop me, would you? But I want more from you than that._

He sits back on his haunches, knees either side of Charles's legs. He stretches out his hands towards the head of the cast-iron bedframe, and Charles gasps.

_I know what you're thinking, because I'm thinking it too. Remembering._

The image of a woman made of diamond, imprisoned by the warped struts of the bedframe, metal ropes snaking tight and inexorable around her wrists, her throat.

Erik lets the thought, the memory, hang in the air between them. He can feel the tension of it vibrating in the metal of the frame.

“You're wondering if I'm going to do that to you,” he says.

“Yes,” Charles says hoarsely.

“Keep wondering,” Erik says.

He moves his hands down over Charles's arms and chest, not quite touching, but close enough that he knows Charles can feel the heat coming from him.

Charles shifts uneasily, digging his heels into the mattress.

“Lie still,” Erik says. “Don't move.”

He knows instinctively that physical bondage would be easier, would let Charles struggle as much as he wants to. Like this, he has to hold himself still, become his own restraints. Resist the temptation to grip Erik's wrists and force his hands to touch bare flesh.

There's nothing to stop him from forcing Erik with his mind in any case. Nothing but his own boast: _I control myself._ Demonstrating his superiority.

Erik leans in close again and flicks his tongue against Charles's lips. Charles moans and clenches his hands. Erik can feel the strain of his resistance, his longing to pull Erik into a kiss. Well, let him have a taste of it, why not?

Charles's mouth is as soft as it looks, yielding and delicious. His self-imposed passivity is a fresh challenge. Erik sucks at his lower lip and pushes his tongue a little way into Charles's mouth, licking and teasing, withdrawing as soon as Charles starts to respond and arch up against him. Three or four repetitions of this and Charles is panting and squirming.

“Be still,” Erik says again, and Charles obeys with a groan.

Erik runs his tongue down Charles's body from throat to navel, and lower, till his mouth is almost level with Charles's cock. There's a damp patch already spreading where Charles's excitement has him leaking into his undershorts. Erik puts his mouth over it, not quite touching, and breathes, warm and deliberate and slow.

“Oh God,” Charles says, and it's all Erik can do not to take him in his mouth and finish him right away.

 _Wait_ , he tells himself, and grins wryly as he recognizes it's become a test for him as well as Charles. He doesn't know if Charles can hear him, but the words are so clear in his head he might as well be shouting.

_I want you so much. Want you to make you cry out and lose control. Want to make you come in my mouth, in my hands, on my thighs. Want to come inside you and feel you clenching around me. Want to lose myself in you, make you forget everything but wanting me. Desperate for me, beside yourself._

Charles groans as Erik's fingers trace the outline of his erection, slide down to fondle his balls, brush teasingly against his thighs and away again.

 _Any minute now_ , Erik thinks, running a fingertip under Charles's waistband and pulling the undershorts down just below the head of Charles's cock. He brushes his thumb across the slit and Charles gives a sharp cry.

The sound of Raven's voice on the stairs, calling out to Charles, makes them both freeze.

Charles bites his lip and struggles to control his breathing. It must be even worse than trying to keep quiet normally, Erik thinks – Charles is fighting on two fronts. He looks gloriously wrecked, wild-eyed and flushed, quivering all over.

Raven calls Charles's name again. It sounds as if she’s just outside the door.

Erik strokes his forefinger across the wet tip of Charles's cock, and raises his finger to his lips as if signalling for silence. He licks his finger, tasting Charles's precome on it. Grins at Charles's agonized expression. Lowers his mouth till his lips are almost touching Charles's cock.

“ _Don't_!” says Charles, through gritted teeth. His voice is low and pleading.

“Take them off,” Erik says, brushing his fingers across the straining fabric again.

Charles shudders and his eyelids flutter closed for a moment.

“ _Now_ ,” Erik says.

Charles pushes the undershorts down and kicks them off.

“Good,” Erik says softly.

Charles’s eyes are fixed on him, silently pleading for mercy.

“Ready to give in?” Erik asks. “You know what you have to do if you want me to stop.”

Charles shakes his head. His lips are so red where he’s been biting them. He looks, if possible, even more naked because Erik’s still fully clothed. His cock is curved, heavy and flushed dark with blood. Erik bends his head to it again.

He licks Charles quickly, teasingly, swirling and flicking his tongue against the frenulum. Charles's whole body convulses with a barely suppressed cry. Erik closes his lips around the head of Charles's cock and sucks, gently at first, then taking him in deeper.

Raven calls out again, her voice more distant as she moves away down the corridor. Erik releases Charles's cock with a parting lick, laughing at his moan of frustration.

“Fuck,” Charles says. “Erik, _please_.”

Erik doesn't know which he likes more, the unexpected curse or the strain in Charles's voice. Hard to choose.

He wraps his hand around Charles's erection, squeezing, stroking, pulling till he can feel Charles is close to the edge, then slackens his grip, denying Charles the pressure he craves. He does it again and again till Charles is frantically thrashing against the mattress and biting his own fist to keep from crying out.

“I told you to lie still,” Erik rebukes him.

“I _can't_ ,” Charles says, desperate. “Erik–”

“What?”

“You _know_ what,” Charles groans.

Erik grins evilly and shakes his head. “You're not getting through,” he says. “Try again.”

He gives a twist of his fingers and Charles cries out, a choked cry that goes right to Erik's cock. He forces himself to ignore it, to watch dispassionately as Charles writhes under his tormenting caresses.

“Erik, for God's sake!” Charles begs.

“ _Make_ me,” Erik says. “Or you're not going to get it.”

He _wants_ this; wants to feel Charles flooding his mind with need and desire. Wants Charles inside his head again, that shock of intimacy like nothing he’d ever felt before.

He's never wanted anyone to breach the bounds of his mind or his body, till now.

He goes on stroking, smooth and strong, till Charles is shuddering on the verge of orgasm again, eyes unfocused and lost. Erik stills his hand and Charles whimpers.

“Not much longer now, I think,” Erik says, sounding more cool and detached than he feels.

Charles is swearing steadily; Erik puts his hand over his mouth and says “Shh.”

_Speak to me with your mind, Charles. You know it's the only way._

Charles's lips are hot against Erik's hand.

“Lick,” Erik says.

Charles moans in protest.

“Do as you're told,” Erik says. “If you want to come at all, that is.”

Charles licks, pushing his tongue against Erik's palm as if he could seduce him into changing his mind. Erik can feel the heaviness of his own arousal; he's still aching for Charles, has been all along. He twists his hand around Charles's cock, sliding up and down.

The mental impact of Charles's control snapping almost knocks him sideways.

_Erik - fuck - need to - need you to - make me come - do it - fuck - NOW_

_**Finally**_ , Erik thinks, giddy with triumph.

He grasps Charles's cock tighter, sure firm strokes pulling him into an orgasm that rings like a shout through Erik's mind.

Charles's sobbing breaths gradually quieten as the aftershocks die away. He looks at Erik as if he can't quite believe what just happened.

“You won your bet,” he says at last, a little shakily. “Pity we never agreed what the stakes were.”

“So what do I get for proving you wrong?” Erik asks, trying to sound nonchalant though his pulse is racing. He's harder than he's ever been in his life.

Charles gives a sudden grin of pure delight that makes Erik catch his breath. “Ah well,” he says, “that's for me to know and you to find out.”

“Really?”

“ _Really_ ,” Charles says.

“And how do I do that?” Erik asks.

Charles's eyes are sparkling with mischief. “On your back,” he says. “Naked. Starting now.”

**Author's Note:**

> There is now a sequel to this, [Discipline](http://archiveofourown.org/works/484642).


End file.
